


Hold You So Close

by secondalto



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hints of OT3, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondalto/pseuds/secondalto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's the most important person in his life. She knows he's the only one for her. Good thing the universe made them soul mates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold You So Close

**Author's Note:**

> Things I learned while writing this fic
> 
> 1) Waverly, Iowa is an actual real life place. Obviously my version bears no resemblance
> 
> 2) When sending sections to Rainne and she curses me for giving her feels, I know I've done something right.
> 
> 3) These two WOULDN'T STOP ANGSTING.
> 
> Based on the Clint/Pepper section of [What Could Have Been (One)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1944831). Beta work done by Rainne, as usual

The town of Waverly, Iowa wasn’t exactly known as a hub of activity. So when a new family moved in to town it was the cause of much excitement. Clint Barton, all of nine, though the hubbub was stupid. Barney Barton, at eleven, was more philosophical.

“Think about it,” he said. “If they have kids, those kids know nothin’ ‘bout us. Nothin’, Clint. We wouldn’t be the ‘Barton Boys’. Might make yourself a friend.”

Clint watched as the movers carted boxes and furniture into the house across the street. There’d only been the man there, directing and overseeing. Today, around noon, a station wagon pulled up behind the moving van. Clint watched as a woman climbed out of the driver’s seat and opened the passenger side door. A girl exited and Clint was immediately drawn to her. At first it was her hair –a burst of red against her pale skin – then it was the way she carried herself. This girl seemed so confident. She looked around and caught his eye. She smiled. Clint felt a fluttering in his stomach but bravely waved back with a smile of his own. Maybe Barney was right, he could make a friend.

The next day, Clint gathered up enough courage to approach the red-headed girl. Sort of. She was by herself on the school playground. He might have followed her from her house. He watched from behind a tree as she swung herself higher and higher on the swings. The sun shone on her and he could smell the scent of the corn on the gentle breeze. He was fascinated by her and he didn’t know why. He crept closer, keeping behind the trees. She slowed, letting the arc of her swings get smaller and smaller. The she dragged her feet in the sand and stopped.

“I know you’re out there,” she called. “You aren’t as good at hiding as you think you are.”

Clint swore under his breath and stepped out from his hiding place. The girl watched him as he approached like she was assessing him; like she could already tell he was no good and she shouldn’t have anything to do with him. He stopped several feet in front of her, head hung low, feet scuffing at the ground.

“You live across the street, don’t you?” she said.

“Yeah,” he answered.

She tilted her head, hair flashing in the sun. “What’s your name?”

“Clint. Clint Barton.” He suddenly got a burst of confidence. “What’s yours?”

“Virginia Potts,” she sighed, wrinkling her nose a little.

“That’s a mouthful. Gotta nickname?”

She made a face of disgust. “My dad calls me Pepper. He thinks he’s being funny.”

“Oh,” Clint mused about that, then suppressed a laugh when he got the joke. “Mind if I call you Ginny?”

She smiled brightly and to Clint it made the whole world seem warmer and happier. “I’d like that a lot,” she said. “Wanna swing with me?”

“Sure,” Clint replied, bounding towards the swing next to her. They spent the next few hours swinging and finding out about each other.

 

*~*~*~*~*

Less than six months later, the best and worst thing happened to Clint. Mom and dad had gone out, where to Clint will never remember. But Harold Barton had gotten drunk and still drove. There was an accident. While Clint knew that he was far better off without that bastard in his and Barney’s life, he mourned the loss of his mother deeply. He asked to see her.

At first all of the adults tried to tell him no, but Clint could be a stubborn bastard when he wanted. When he was taken to the morgue, she was covered with a sheet except for her face. He rubbed his arms against the chill in the air as he approached the table. He stood by her side for a long few minutes, taking in her face. She seemed so much younger, at peace. Then he moved the sheet aside so he could see her left arm. It was gone. Her soul mark was gone. Clint could remember when she’d sat him down to explain them to him.

_It was on an afternoon shortly after he’d turned six. He’d come home from school, full of questions because one of the older kids had been showing of the newly printed words on his leg. Everyone had been whispering about how young he was and how badly it could turn out._

_“Mom?”_

_She’d looked up from her sewing, patching up a pair of Barney’s jeans. “Yes, baby?”_

_“Why don’t I have words?”_

_Edith Barton had sighed, putting her work down and beckoning him to her. He’d clambered on her lap without hesitation, drinking in the scent of her._

_“You get your mark when you’re born, my boy,” she said, running her fingers over the dark words on her skin. “But, they ain’t words at first.”_

_Clint had thought of the greyish, blurry blob that was on his chest and nodded._

_“Your words,” she continued, pulling him close. “They ain’t the first words your soul mate says to you. Sometimes they are, but most times they aren’t. Stories out there of people known each other all their lives who are mates, but their words… They say they can change. Your grandma Barton swore up and down hers did.” Edith stopped, stroked her arm again._

_“Did yours change?” he’d asked. He can’t imagine why the universe would have made a man like his father his mom’s soul mate._

_Edith shook her head. “No, Clint, baby. They didn’t. But you gotta know, sometimes, people like us… we don’t get the luxury of being with our soul mates.”_

_Clint had wanted desperately to ask why but his mom went on._

_“The words reflect who you and your soul mate are as you get older. They’re the first words you say to each other when you’re ready, when you both are who you’re meant to be,” she said wistfully._

_“When could you read yours?”_

_She’d smiled a little at that. “I was all of sixteen. Usually happens in your twenties,” she paused tilting her head a little. “Though I’ve heard tell of people who don’t get to read theirs ‘til they’re forty or more. But better late than not at all.”_

_Clint shivered at that. Barney didn’t have words. Clint tried not to feel sorry for him._

Any further talk about marks had halted when the sound of his dad coming home from work spurred them apart. Now Clint rubbed at the spot where his mother’s mark had been and wondered a lot about who her soul mate had been if it hadn’t been his dad.

Then the social worker told him it was time to go.

When he was brought back home, Ginny was waiting for him. Clint had been holding everything in, until he saw her. The look of sympathy that she gave him combined with her open arms broke through the thin wall of control he’d been holding onto. He walked a few steps and half collapsed. Ginny was right there next to him in an instant, holding him up, stroking his head and whispering in his ear.

“It’s gonna be okay, I’m here,” she said.

He didn’t know how long they sat there in the dirt in front of his house. He was vaguely aware of people going in and out, of adults hovering and asking questions that Ginny answered quietly. Then Barney was there and gently prodding at Clint’s arm.

“C’mon bro,” he said. “We gotta go.”

The home was just outside of town, for which Clint was grateful. If it hadn’t been there, they’d have been sent all the way to Iowa City. Now he’d get to still go to the same school, where he’d see Ginny. He sniffed and pulled away from her slowly.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked, his voice wavering.

She nodded, giving him a small smile. “Of course,” she said.

Clint nodded and went with the social worker, his entire life distilled into two boxes that fit with Barney’s two in the back of a van. He watched out the window of the van until Ginny faded from sight.

*~*~*~*~*

“Really, Clint,” Ginny sighed. “Why do you keep taking those… those… _idiots_ on?” She pressed the washcloth to his lip again, dabbing at the wound there.

“They made fun of my mom,” he mumbled, eyes downcast. “Don’t care if it’s ‘bout dad, but, Gin,” he pleaded, looking up at her, “It’s my mom.”

She shook her head and dunked the cloth into the bowl of water sitting on the kitchen table. Clint was sitting in a chair as she hovered over him. “I know,” she said softly. “But if you’re not careful, you’re gonna look like a heavyweight boxer before you turn fifteen.”

Clint gave her a grin, one that made her heart flutter and her stomach lurch. “More like featherweight, Gin.”

She snorted. “Whatever, now go wash up. I don’t think any of the cuts need bandaging.”

Virginia Potts, Ginny to Clint, slumped her shoulders as she picked up the bowl of now pink water. Four years after her death and Clint was still defending his mother. Though he and his brother had reputations as troublemakers, she knew the softer side of the younger Barton brother. She remembered the day of his mother’s funeral. Ginny had wheedled the day off of school from her parents to be by the side of her friend.

_Barney and Clint were automatically excused by the school superintendent, though Barney made a point of being nowhere near the small church. She and Clint had sat in the front pew, one of the volunteers from the orphanage a row behind. A handful of mourners had shown to bid a final farewell to Edith Barton. There had been a tiny amount of insurance to pay final bills, but not enough to bury either parent. Until an anonymous donation came to the church for Edith. Clint wouldn’t say it, but Ginny suspected it came from his mom’s soul mate. Harold Barton would be cremated courtesy of the state, his ashes buried in a pauper’s grave._

_Clint cried, though not as hard as the day it had happened, the day she’d held him in the dirt in front of his house. When the minister finished the final prayer, Clint looked up at the simple coffin and Ginny had wanted nothing more than to take that look away from him._

_“I don’t want to go back, Gin,” he’d whispered. “Not yet.”_

_She’d nodded, patting his hand and getting up out of the pew, making her way back to the volunteer, a nice man who’d introduced himself as Doug. She’d flashed him her brightest smile and used her sweetest tone._

_“Doug, wasn’t it?” she asked. “Do you mind terribly if I took Clint back home with me? He’s… he’s not ready to say goodbye just yet.” She’d allowed a note of sadness to creep into her voice. “I lived across the street from him. I think… I think if got to see his house one last time, it might… help.”_

_Doug looked skeptical. “I don’t know, Miss…”_

_She smiled again, offering her small hand. “Virginia Potts.”_

_Doug clearly knew the name, given the widening of his eyes. Her daddy was a big fish in this small pond of a town._

_“I can have him back here, or anywhere in town, whenever you need,” she’d promised._

_Doug nodded. “Town square, five o’clock,” he’d said._

_“No problem,” Ginny replied. Doug shook her hand again before standing and leaving the church. Clint looked right up at her when she came back to stand in front of him._

_“You’re the best, Gin,” he’d said._

_She stood there, hands on her hips. “Of course I am. Now what do you really want to do?”_

_“I really wanna go home,” he answered. “Gotta get something.”_

_“There’s nothing left there,” she replied. “They took it all, Clint.”_

_“Not everything,” he said quietly, his eyes returning to the coffin._

_They had walked back to the house, it looked old and lonely with the bright red_ FOR SALE _sign stuck in the yellow-green lawn. Clint used a window to climb in and helped Ginny to follow him. They made their way to the back bedroom, what Ginny could only assume had been the master. Clint fell to his knees, knocking on the floor with his knuckles._

_“What are you doing?” she hissed._

_“Shhh,” he’d replied. He smiled when a slightly hollow sound came from one of the floorboards. He took out a pocket knife and dug under the edges of it, lifting it out and revealing a hole underneath. From that he pulled out a small, square black box with mother-of-pearl. He handed it to her and replaced the board. They left the house quickly and quietly. Once they were safely across the street and in her room, she spoke._

_“What is it?”_

_“All I have left of my mom,” he said, running a finger over the top of the box she still held. “It has all the things most precious to her in it.”_

_“Well, here then,” she said, trying to shove it into his hands._

_He shook his head, his hands covering hers. “I need you to keep it for me, Ginny. Not safe to have it at the home.”_

_“Thank you,” she said softly, putting it on her nightstand. “For trusting me with it.”_

_“Thank you, Gin, for being my friend.” He’d kissed her cheek then. And that had been the first time she’d been sure she was in love with Clint Barton._

In the here and now he came out of her bathroom, a band aid over the bridge of his nose.

“It… uh, started bleeding again,” he said, grinning weakly at her.

“What am I going to do with you?” she sighed.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. Then he crossed the room, pulling her into a hug. He laid his head on her shoulder. “Do I ever tell you, Gin, how thankful I am to have you as a friend?”

She held him there, breathing in his scent. “Only all the time, dork.”

Later that night, Clint returned to the home (if reluctantly), Ginny – she’d stopped thinking of herself as Pepper the moment she’d met Clint – took out the box of Edith Barton’s keepsakes. There was a pearl necklace (fake), a seed pearl bracelet (real), several pairs of costume jewelry earrings, faded movie tickets and a playbill for an opera, a locket with a picture of a handsome young man who was definitely NOT Harold Barton, and what was clearly an engagement ring with a small but well cut emerald.

Ginny would occasionally take it out and put it on, even if it was too big for her. She imagined Clint giving it to her. Her mother encouraged their friendship – “It’s so good of you to reach out to someone less fortunate, Pepper” – but continually discouraged anything more. Gladys Potts was forever dragging her only daughter to “high society” functions in order to introduce her to young men “more suited to her station.” UGH. Ginny put away Edith Barton’s things.

Clint was kind, smart and funny. She liked that he called her Ginny or Gin where everyone else insisted on calling her Pepper or Virginia (Or, in the case of the entire JV football team, “Virgin” Potts). He made her feel… special. To her, it would never matter what words the grey blob on her clavicle would resolve into. She only wanted Clint. She might only be thirteen, but she knew, _just knew,_ that she was meant to be with him.

There was a whole section of society who didn’t cling to the notion of the soul mark. Those who never got words, those whose soul mates died or people who just couldn’t or wouldn’t be with the person whose words they had. She and Clint could run away. She had some of her trust from Grandma Potts coming to her when she turned sixteen. That was only three years away. They would make it on their own. She was so very sure of that.

*~*~*~*~*

One year later and Ginny was still patching Clint up. Only this time it was because he was defending her honor. They’d been dating for almost nine months now, much to her mother’s regret.

(“Oh, Pepper, _really_? You could do so much better,” Gladys had sighed. “You know, your father has gotten a lot of offers lately. We could move at any moment. Do you really want to involve yourself with a boy like _that_?” Ginny would go all doe-eyed at Walter Potts and he’d cave. They’d been in Waverly the longest of all the places they’d lived because of Walter’s love for his daughter, but Ginny knew it wouldn’t last forever.)

Clint sat at her kitchen counter this time, his head over a bowl as his now oft-broken nose dripped blood. She sighed and brought him gauze.

“I told you,” she said gently, pressing the gauze into his hand. “You don’t have to stand up for me. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

He looked up sharply, groaning as he did, dabbing at his nose. “Gin, they were saying you were a… a… a whore,” he half-whispered the last word. “They said that the only reason you’re with me is ‘cause we’re… doin’ it.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, washing his face, trying not to notice the black eye forming or the other bruises in various colors over his body. “And that’s why we’re not. If you can’t say ‘having sex’, you’re obviously not ready to have it.”

“Gin,” he whined, gently stopping her hand. The look he gave her, so gentle and full of emotion, it blew her away. “I don’t want to pressure you. You said you weren’t ready, I’m fine with that.”

“Which is why I love you, idiot,” she sighed. He hadn’t said it yet, but she was fairly sure he reciprocated. “But I wish you’d learn to let it go. It’s not worth it, Clint. I miss your old nose.” She brushed a finger lightly over his nose, noticing as he tried to stifle the wince of pain. “Now, come on, we have somewhere to go. It is your birthday and I haven’t given you your present yet.”

He climbed off of the stool, following her as she gathered her purse, house keys and a small bag. He took the bag as he got in the car the family driver had waiting.

“What’s in here?”

Ginny got in, nodded to the driver to go and then gestured for him to open the bag. He peered inside, closing it again slowly before looking at her.

“Why is my mother’s keepsake box in here? I asked you to keep it for me, keep it safe.”

She put a hand on his as they rode down Main Street. “I have, and I wish I could keep doing it. But Clint, when we started going out, Mom started… snooping.” They turned into the main shopping complex, parking in front of Waverly Savings and Loan. “I’ve moved it several times already. Recently, it’s been locked in my nightstand.” She took a moment, squeezing his hand gently. “When I came home from school yesterday, there were scratches on the drawer. Like someone had tried to get in.”

“Fuck,” Clint muttered. “So why are we at the bank?”

She smiled, letting go of his hand and taking the bag. “I’ve rented you a safety deposit box for a year.”

Clint tried to say something, but Ginny just strolled into the bank and he had no choice but to follow. The manager recognized her immediately. It was comical the way he tripped over himself to help her. It irked her that Clint was basically ignored until it came time to give him the key.

“Miss Potts…” Mr. Sanderson hissed, not caring that Clint could hear. She took a calming breath as she saw Clint bristle, gearing up for a fight. So what if he had gauze stuffed up his nose, tape holding it there? So what if he was cut up and bruised, it was his box.

“Mr. Sanderson,” she said, giving him her most icy tone and stare. “You know me, so you know who my father is. If you do not give Mr. Barton the key to the box that I’ve rented for him, _in his name_ , I will tell daddy all about this disappointing incident.”

Sanderson looked paler than normal. “Yes, Miss Potts.” He fished around in his desk, pulling out a key, offering it to Clint while trying to keep a look of disdain from his face. “Your key, Mr. Barton.” Clint snatched it from the man’s hand. “If you’ll go with Denise, she’ll take you to the box.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sanderson,” Ginny said graciously, getting up and waiting until Clint finished glaring and got up too.

Denise took them to the vault. She helped them take out the box, leaving them in a secure room with it until they were done. Clint opened the box, taking a breath before opening the bag. He lifted the small box of his mother’s most precious things out reverently. He sat it on the table and opened it. Clint brushed his fingers over everything, then he pulled out the locket. It lay in his palm before he flicked it open.

“You know,” he said softly. “I always wondered who he was.” He meant the man whose picture was in the locket.

“I know,” Ginny responded, just as softly. “I can tell you, if you want. But not here.”

Clint stared at her in surprise, but nodded. He gently closed the locket, putting it back in the box. The keepsake box went in the safety deposit box. They left the bank, the key in Clint’s pocket. Ginny had her own too, at Mr. Sanderson’s insistence. The driver took them to the park, by the middle school. They climbed out of the car, walking slowly, their hands drifting together until Clint tugged hers into his. They unconsciously drifted to the playground and the swings. Ginny sat in one, idly swinging as Clint stood by, waiting. He was patient but the way he stood, arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping; she knew he was nervous.

“His name,” she began quietly. “Is John. John Robert Bakerson. He met your mom when they were seventeen.” She continued to idly push herself, never really going far. “I know a lot about this because Mom’s friends,” she paused when Clint frowned. Ginny didn’t blame him. The group of women who Mom hung around were elitist and snooty. “Well, they like gossip. An innocent question here or there and I heard a lot, got a lot of clues.”

Clint just nodded. He’d relaxed a little, the foot tapping had stopped, but he was still tense.

“Anyway, your mom, her family… they used to run in the same circles.”

“No fucking way,” Clint blurted.

Ginny grinned. “Yes. The Hartley family was once quite wealthy. They go back to the very founding of the country. But by the time your mom met John, all they had was their name. And it still carried some weight.”

Clint stepped forward. “So how’d she…?”

“Let me tell the story,” Ginny interrupted. “So impatient,” she huffed, shaking her head and pushing herself gently again, letting the swing rock her before she started up again. “The Hartleys lived in Cedar Rapids, so did the Bakersons. Always connected, intermarrying several times, they supported various charities. John and Edith quickly realized they were soul mates. It began a whirlwind romance. The emerald in her box,” Ginny said, looking at the sky wistfully. “It was a promise. Your grandparents wanted Edith to experience more of the world, be a bit older before she married. Even if John was her soul mate and the perfect match.”

Ginny took a breath. “Well, she met Harold at another function. I’ve never figured out how he got there. But apparently he was well dressed, well-mannered and very charming. He plied Edith with lots of alcohol. Next thing Edith knew, she was pregnant.”

Clint gaped, eyes wide and hands moving of their own accord. “Are you saying he… he…”

“It would apply, yes,” Ginny answered softly.

“If he weren’t already dead, I’d kill him,” Clint growled.

“Of course John’s parents found out and whisked him off to Europe, while your grandparents forced Edith to marry Harold.”

Clint finally staggered over and sank into the other swing, head bowed. “Think I’m gonna be sick.”

There was an awkward silence.

“John kept an eye on her,” Ginny offered a few moments later. “Tried to get her to leave, but by then she had you. He is the one who paid for her funeral. I have his contact info, he said he’d love to talk to you, tell you about her.”

Silence reigned as she swung gently, letting Clint absorb everything. John had seemed like a nice man, he’d never married, sponsored several kids through the Big Brothers/Big Sisters program. Finally Clint looked up, getting out of the swing. He came around to stand in front of her, stopping her gently before crouching to be at eye level with her.

“Thank you,” he rasped. “For telling me. For… everything, Gin.”

“Clint?” She reached for him. He’d been crying. Was still or starting to again as she caught a tear with the tip of her finger. He looked up at her, blue eyes pinning her to the swing. Her other hand gripped the chain.

“You know I love you, Gin, right?” he said, grabbing the hand that had been on his face and kissing it.

She choked out, “I do now, you sap.” Her own tears were now forming.

“You’re the best damn thing to happen to this hick town. To a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, metaphorically.”

She couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say.

He pressed his head to her knee. “Weren’t for you, Gin, don’t know if I’d stayed this long.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Clinton Francis Barton.”

“Barney’s leaving,” he said. “Circus comin’ next town over. He needs me, Gin. Might be older, but until you came, we only had each other.”

She gaped. Barney Barton had been nothing but trouble since his parent’s death. There were fights, suspensions, an expulsion and even an arrest.

“No, Clint, he doesn’t,” she asserted, squeezing his hand. “You are so much better than he is, you can be something and I want to be there when it happens.”

He lifted his head. “Come with us, Gin.” He reached up and brushed at her collar bone, where her words were. “Don’t care what they’ll say, don’t want to imagine you not bein’ in my life. We wait two years, we can get married with parental consent.”

“MARRIED?!?!?” she exclaimed. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry him, but that they’d only be sixteen.

“Yeah, sure, since I have no parents and your dad’ll do anything…”

“Clint, no,” she said loudly. The look of hurt on his face made her almost regret saying it but he was being crazy. “God, Clint,” she sighed, swallowing around her tears. “I love you, too, but we’re only fourteen. There are things I want to do with my life, places I want to see and I can’t do that if I run away with you to the god damn circus.”

The silence this time was angry instead of awkward. Clint stood up, his nose red, bruises standing out against the pale color of his skin and he was the most beautiful thing Ginny had ever seen. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes against the anguish.

“Thank you, Ginny. _Virginia_. You’ll always be in my heart,” he whispered against her hair. “Take care of yourself, and mom’s things. I’ll try to remember to send money when I can.”

She felt him step away, the warmth of his body leaving her. She heard him cross the grass, but when she opened her eyes, he was gone. She cried until her throat and lungs ached. Two weeks later her dad got an offer and she made no protest. Three weeks later they moved to New York.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Clint left the circus at seventeen, though not by choice. Barney’s betrayal hurt almost as much as leaving Ginny had. He missed her every day. Of course he wondered if he should have stayed. He had tried to date other girls, never townies, but even in the circus prospects were slim. One of the younger tightrope walkers, Katya, had taken pity on him when he’d turned sixteen. That had been an experience.

Now, here he was, stuck in Georgia with fifty dollars and his favorite bow. Clint had no idea what he was going to do with his life. He wandered down the road where Boris, the bear trainer, had left him. He wasn’t far from a town; maybe he could find work, save some money to go back home. Maybe Ginny would still be there. And if she wasn’t he’d find her. Clint trudged on, keeping that hope in his heart.

By mid-afternoon, the hope was all but gone. The sun was high, he was hot and tired and downtrodden. No one wanted to help a drift less kid with no prior experience. Clint wondered how far fifty dollars would get him by bus. He sullenly walked down the street, passing by all the mom and pop stores when something caught his eye. He crossed the street to stand in front of the recruitment office.

He’d never really thought much about the military. His dad had been vocal about it, but Clint generally tuned out Harold’s drunken ramblings. It would be a steady paycheck. He would travel, but he’d gotten used to that. He jumped a little when a soft but commanding voice interrupted his thoughts.

“You ever think of joining, son?” The man was tall, broad shouldered and had a ton of ribbons pinned to his chest. There was a patch with three stripes but he wasn’t exactly sure what rank that was. He had the name Mills attached to his shirt.

“No, sir,” he stammered, once he caught his breath again. “Not really.”

“Are you lost? Get thrown out of your home?”

“Something like that, sir,” he huffed with a sour laugh.

Mills looked him up and down. Clint had built muscles working at the circus. He was no stranger to hard work. And he knew how to fight better if this guy was going to try something.

“How old are you, son?” Mills asked.

“Seventeen, sir.”

Mills frowned. “Where are you from? Where are your parents?”

Clint realized he wasn’t quite old enough to sign up, not without parental consent. But he straightened his shoulders and answered anyway. “Iowa, sir. My parents are dead, car accident. I’m sure you can look that up, sir.”

Mills thought about this. “Might do just that. What’s your name?”

“Clint Barton, sir.”

Mills nodded, his gaze moving over to the bow on Clint’s shoulder. “You know how to use that?”

Clint just grinned widely.

*~*~*~*~*~*

When her dad had gotten her the internship at Stark Industries, Pepper never imagined that she’d ever get to meet Tony Stark himself. Now that she had, she wasn’t sure why the press and thousands of women were so in love with him. He was an insufferable, unbearable, misogynistic ass. And he knew it. It made her miss Clint, the way he’d made her feel special. She’d never stopped thinking about him in the three years since he left.

Pepper had discovered an error in a financial report and her supervisor had whisked her off to see Mr. Stark in person. When she’d been pushed into his office, he’d looked her up and down with a leer and said, “My birthday isn’t for another two months.”

She’d drawn herself up, stiffened her spine and gave him her best glare. “You come near me with any kind of sexual intent and I will have you arrested for sexual assault and corruption of a minor.”

He stared at her for a moment, open-mouthed, before grinning. It seemed genuine, not like the smiles she’d seen him throw reporters and fans.

“I like you,” he said, pointing as he rounded his desk. “Miss Potts, was it?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” she said automatically.

“How would you feel about being my assistant?”

Pepper blinked several times, trying to make sure she’d heard him right. “But, I… school… college…”

“Pfft,” Stark said, waving a hand dismissively. “I have deals with several places where working at SI counts for credit. The rest we can work in.” He leaned against his desk, looking at her intently. “What about it, Potts? How would you like to be the right hand woman to one of the most powerful men in the world?”

It was certainly tempting. She’d told Clint she wanted to do something with her life. This was her chance.

“I will not sleep with you,” she answered tentatively.

Stark laughed. “A challenge!” He stood from the desk and started crossing over to her. “Welcome to your new life, Miss Potts.” He extended a hand to her.

She took it, looking him right in the eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The transition from Marine to SHIELD Agent was pretty easy, Clint thought. Mills (Clint would later learn he was a Sergeant) had gotten him special dispensation to join early once he went through basic. He got through that with good marks, even earning an expert marksman badge. Clint was sent out immediately, shuffled from country to country, getting to know a lot of men. It was deep in the mountains of Afghanistan that he saved an entire company with his fast reflexes and perfect aim. Phil Coulson showed up the next week. Clint wasn’t the perfect agent. There were a few times he’d not hit his target. But that was because he’d gotten bad intel. The men had families and Clint wasn’t going kill a man in front of his kids.

Then there was Natasha.

Phil had chewed him out for hours when they’d gotten back to HQ.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Barton?” Phil yelled, going from bland to pissed-off in two seconds once they were in his office.

“I was thinking that she was going to be one less mark in my book,” he answered. “I might not show it, but the other men, targets, whatever, they do weigh on me. Know I gotta pay for those one day, even it was for the greater good.” Clint wasn’t going to linger. He did the mandated therapy after each kill, even some extra when he needed it. He was better off than a lot of guys he knew. “I had… a feeling.”

“ _In your pants_?!?” Phil shot back instantly. Clint bit off a reply as he watched his handler pace. It was a rare thing for Phil Coulson to be this rattled. “A feeling… a _feeling_. You broke protocol and training over a _feeling_?”

Clint nodded. “She’s cooperating, right?” Phil stopped steaming long enough to nod. “Then I made the right call.”

Phil paced for a while before stopping right in front of Clint. “You ever do something like that again, Barton,” he began and Clint knew he was good. Phil let him go shortly afterwards.

Of course he ended up in bed with her. He tried to tell himself it was because she was a beautiful and intriguing woman, not because she reminded him of… When they lay in bed afterward, he was thankful he was still alive. Natasha traced her hand over the mark on his chest.

“I am not for you, Мало хок,” she said softly.

He tugged her closer. “Don’t care about that,” he replied roughly. “Still hasn’t come into focus.”

She laughed then, a gentle sound that warmed him. “No, it is not that. There is someone, here,” she tapped over his heart. “And here,” she tapped his head. “She is special to you, Clint. I will never be able to compete.”

“Tasha,” he began, but she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“No,” she shook her head. “You will be with her again. Trust me.”

They settled into being friends, partners. Tasha was a mystery, but he was glad she had come into his life. Even if he didn’t listen to her about Bobbi. Bobbi was flashy, feisty and when they were put together for an op, Clint thought he might be in love for the first time since leaving Waverly. Tasha didn’t like her. Clint ignored Tasha. He had really missed having a woman in his life.

“You know,” Tasha began, one morning before a briefing.

Clint heaved a sigh and tried not to roll his eyes. “She’s not the one for me,” he said blandly. “How long are you going to do the same song and dance, Tash?”

“Until you listen,” she replied, flicking his ear as the briefing began.

Two months later he married Bobbi in Vegas.

Six months after that, they got an annulment. Bobbi left him with emotional scars, a collection of music he hated and the physical reminder of how dangerous putting lovers into a heated dispute with the enemy was. Clint despised wearing the hearing aids. He wished he could have the last year of his life back. Tasha was classy enough not to say ‘I told you so’.

Two weeks later, he woke up able to read his soul mark. The delicate, but precise, looping script read: _“I always knew it would be you.”_ He titled his head in the bathroom mirror, trying to put a finger on where he knew the writing from. Then he nearly leapt out of his skin when Tasha padded in with a cup of coffee.

“Ah,” she said, taking in the words. “I was wondering why you were late to our weekly breakfast.” She read the words, looked at him and smirked. He knew that smirk. Tasha knew something and wasn’t going to tell him. “I like her already. Don’t fuck it up.” Then Tasha disappeared, leaving the coffee and leaving Clint feeling disoriented.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Pepper Potts had not spent the last twenty years of her life pining for one Clint Barton. She’d dated. She’d had sex. But not with Tony Stark. They’d resolved into an almost brother-sister relationship. He knew that she’d had someone, but she’d never told him a name. She knew _all_ his matched set of issues. They were each other’s dates to events and rolled their eyes in private about the press’s propensity to make assumptions.

_“Are you and Tony soul mates?” “What do your words say?” “Can you tell us where your mark is?”_

Pepper continually blessed the inventor of mark-covering make-up. It was easier to let the public believe she and Tony were a couple. Thanks to many photo shoots and paparazzi pictures, everyone knew that Tony Stark had a soul mark right along his left pectoral. (Which had thankfully been spared by the kidnappers. Pepper wasn’t sure what would have happened if Tony’s mark had been disfigured in any way). What no one, save a trusted handful of people, knew was that Tony had a second mark, stamped on his right butt cheek. Pepper only knew because she’d walked in on Tony and a set of twins early on in her career as his right hand woman.

“Believe me, Potts,” he’d said afterwards. “I get the irony.”

Pepper would never regret saying yes to Tony that day in his office. But she will always wonder exactly how crazy she’d been. She’d known being the assistant to such a prominent man would be dangerous. She let Happy teach her some basic self-defense, beyond sticking her ever-sharp heels into a foot, and even learned to handle a firearm. But she hadn’t counted on spending months worrying about him dying or being dead in the desert.

She’d certainly not counted on him coming back with a home-built nuclear reactor in his chest. That was the closest she’d ever really gotten to sleeping with him. Just having him back in Malibu, safe and sound, it was… Even now she got shivers thinking about it. Then there was Obadiah. And the press announcement (thank _GOD_ for Phil Coulson). Then Vanko. And all during this, she’d tried to have a normal life. She tried dating, but no man would ever measure up in her mind to Clint. Even if she was comparing all of them to a fourteen year old.

Now Tony wanted to go back to New York, back to his home, and use his new found knowledge - and element - to build a better office building. She was there with him day in and day out, helping with the design plans, getting the permits and finding the space in Manhattan for him to build the giant monument to himself. She was so busy that she hadn’t realized her words had come into focus. Not until she was peeling off the tattered remnants of a blouse lost to DUM-E’s over-enthusiasm with the fire extinguisher.

“When did that happen?” Tony asked, pointing to her mark.

She looked down, unsuccessfully trying to read the handwriting now quite visible on her clavicle. “Oh,” she breathed, running a finger along it. Tony sighed and pulled her into the bathroom attached to his lab, settling her in front of the mirror. The words read: _“Ginny? Is that you?”_ There had only been one person in her life who had ever called her Ginny. And even if there hadn’t been, she’d know the messy scrawl anywhere; she’d helped him write too many papers not to. Pepper’s heart soared knowing that Clint was her soul mate.

“Ginny?” Tony said, giving her a look. “Who the fuck ever called you Ginny?”

She turned to him, trying and failing to suppress the smile. “I told you about him.”

“What? The fourteen year old fucker who ran off rather than stay?”

“Tony…” she sighed. “He _was_ only fourteen.”

Tony shrugged. “And he broke your heart,” he said. He took her by the shoulders and got serious. “He does it again and he’ll have me to answer to, got it?”

“Yes, Tony.”

“Good,” he said, grinning once more. “Think I’ll get mine soon?”

She whacked him on the shoulder. The one on his chest had actually been in focus for about a month now. It was a string of technobabble that she was sure Tony understood even if she didn’t. He’d almost thrown a huge party in celebration. Now he was anxiously hoping for the other mark to come into focus. Pepper was riding an emotional high, she was happy, Tony was happy, life was looking good.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Puente Antigo wasn’t too bad. Clint even liked Darcy. But he could hear Natasha in his head telling him she wasn’t for him, so he kept away. Maybe if he ever met her again, they could be friends. Then Phil sent him and Selvig to the underground base. He got really bad vibes about that cube. And was he _really_ the only one who realized that it could open on both ends? When the mysterious man in green appeared in the light from the cube, Clint knew it was all going to be so fucked up. He just wasn’t prepared; nobody would have been.

When he came out of the nightmare, tied to a bed with Tasha looming over him, he knew it wasn’t good. But there was work to be done, bad guys to kill and the world to save. When Captain freaking America came to them for help, Clint said yes right away. Tasha handed him his hearing aid/comm and they went to work. For a while he reveled in the ease of the bow, the math and physics of each shot, the calm that came with knowing he’d taken out another ugly ass alien.

It wasn’t until after he’d thrust an arrow in Loki’s face that the full force of what he had done hit him. Tasha took him to some random room in Stark’s tower and held him as he broke down.

“How could she want me, Tasha? After what I’ve done?” he whispered, clutching at her shoulder.

Tasha clucked her tongue, wiping at his tears. “It wasn’t you, Уважаемый одним из. She will understand.” Tasha cradled him, rubbing circles into his back. “She’s your soul mate. She will love you because of the kind of man you are, not the things you have done,” she said softly. “Come, Stark’s got plenty of bedrooms here, I’m sure. You should rest, Clint.”

She let him go slowly, making sure he wasn’t going to collapse, then got up and reached down to haul him off the floor. She dragged him off and made sure he was in a bed. A couple of hours later she was back to bring him down to the huge kitchen/dining area for food. Everyone got to know each other a little better, with the surprise of the evening being Tony revealing Bruce AND the Hulk were his soul mates. Clint was glad for the distraction, but gladly went to bed before midnight. Somehow he managed to dodge nightmares. In the morning Tasha brought him down to Tony’s workshop.

“He says he has something for you; I don’t think he’s slept,” she said, leaving him at the door. “I’ve got to check on a few things, I’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” he replied absently. He stepped into the room, watching as Tony bounced from one thing to another. “Heard you haven’t slept.”

Tony looked up, body quivering. “Can’t. It’s a… thing. Got someone out there, my assistant. She was flying back here after seeing what broke out, got stuck upstate. She’s coming in later, I’ll introduce you.”

“Great, Stark,” Clint said, not suppressing a yawn. “But why am I here before I had my coffee?”

This made Tony grin, an action that highlighted the fact he hadn’t slept and made him look manic. Then he went over to his work bench and plucked something off of it. He held it out so Clint offered up his open palm and Tony dropped whatever it was into it.

“New aids,” Tony said. “Powered by very miniature bits of this,” he tapped his chest. “I’ll get several new patents out of this.”

“Why?” Clint asked, boggling.

Tony shrugged. “I was already looking into making smaller versions of the reactor,” he said. “I had the parts lying around.”

“And you just happened to have the power source?”

“Pfft, no problem,” Tony replied, waving a hand dismissively. “That only took me an hour, when I first figured it out I had my science teams duplicating it within a week. The applications are endless.”

“Which leads me back to why?” Clint said.

“Why not?” Tony answered. “Look you seem like a good guy, Red vouched for you, and I was bored.”

Red? Ah, Tasha. “Thanks,” he said weakly.

They were interrupted by a voice from the ceiling. “Sir? One hour.”

Clint raised an eyebrow.

“JARVIS, my AI, he runs the place,” Tony explained. “Thanks, J. Now, go, Katniss, get some coffee and food. We’re meeting in an hour to talk about you know who.” He meant Loki, who was locked away in a basement until they could figure out what to do with him.

Clint shook his head and went in search of coffee. Within the hour he was fed, caffeinated and trying to figure out his new hearing aids. He was fumbling the old ones out as he stepped off the elevator. Tony was standing in the doorway of the common room.

“Ah, Link, good of you to join us,” he said, motioning Clint forward. “I want you to meet…” Tony’s voice cut off as he finally got the aid out. There was a second or two before the new one was in and Tony was still speaking. “This is Hawkeye, but maybe you should call him Clint.”

Clint was pushing the other aid in as he entered the room. The he looked up to see who Tony had been talking to. Everything stopped and it was twenty years earlier and Clint’s heart pounded, he struggled to catch his breath. “Ginny? Is that you?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You have homework,” Pepper said, looking at the holographic images. “A lot of homework.”

Tony just nodded absently, absorbed in the data. Pepper smiled at him fondly, kissed his cheek and padded towards Phil.

“So, any chance you’re driving by LaGuardia?” she asked.

“I can drop you,” he replied as they entered the elevator. “You do understand all of that is…?”

“Classified, yes, Phil,” she said. “And you can’t tell me you weren’t thrilled about a certain patriotic superhero I saw there.” Phil had the decency to blush. Pepper laughed and patted him on the shoulder. The elevator stopped on her floor and she started to exit. “Give me half an hour. I’m already packed, but I’d like to change.”

The ride to the airport was quick and fun; Pepper really liked Phil. She slept on the flight out, and was ready to do business by the morning. When all hell broke loose, she was back out to the private airstrip and on her way back to New York in what seemed like no time at all. She was in the air when the first footage started airing. It was chaos. She saw Tony, and Captain America. When a camera panned to the streets where – was that Natasha? – a man with a familiar nose and arms (oh my, those _arms_ ), were fighting it out with the aliens.

Pepper’s heart was in her throat when Tony disappeared into the portal. When he fell back and was okay, she took a few minutes to let herself cry. Tony was okay. Bonus, Clint was there in New York. They were forced to land upstate and it would take her time to get home. Pepper was willing to wait. Her boss and her soul mate were alive. When she finally made it back to the Tower, Tony was very eager to introduce her to the people he’d been fighting with. He dragged her into the common room, into the middle of everyone.

“So, that’s Thor, he’s an alien,” Tony said, pointing to the man with a cape.

Thor bowed. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lady Pepper.”

“And Steve Rogers.”

“Ma’am,” Steve nodded. He seemed nice, but Pepper felt he looked… lost.

“You know Agent Romanoff.”

“Good to see you, Natalie,” Pepper teased.

The redhead smiled. “You too, Pepper.”

Tony brought forward an unassuming and rumpled looking man. “This is Bruce Banner. He’s well, his other half, is the one who saved me,” Tony said. Pepper remembered the large giant green thing. Then Tony leaned in with a huge smile. “He and big green are my soul mates.”

“Oh,” Pepper exclaimed, wondering how that worked. “Nice to meet you.”

Bruce smiled. “You too.”

Tony had wandered off quickly, talking to someone just outside the door. He turned back to her, “This is Hawkeye, but maybe you should call him Clint.”

Clint looked up and Pepper’s heart began to race. He was the same and yet different. There were so many things she wanted to tell him. Then he said her words, a startled but happy expression on his face.

“Ginny? Is that you?”

She wanted to laugh, but smiled gently instead. “I always knew it would be you.”

His eyes got wider, then he was crossing the room to her, picking her up and burying his head in the crook of her shoulder. “God, Ginny. Fuck, I… I missed you, Gin. So fucking much.”

She held onto him, stroking her hand through his now short hair. “I know, I have too.”

“ _He’s_ your soul mate?” Tony squeaked.

“Shut it, Stark,” Natasha threatened with a whack to the back of his head. “We’ll give you a few minutes. Meet us down the hall.”

The team filed out under Natasha’s watchful eye. Clint eventually put her down. Then he pulled back and really looked at her.

“How is it you got even more beautiful, Gin?” he asked. “I knew I recognized the handwriting. How could I have not known…?”

She pressed a finger to his lip. “This is where you should be kissing me.”

He grinned, gently pulling her hand away before leaning in. His lips touched hers and Pepper sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. He was warm and muscular. He pulled her closer, tracing his tongue along her bottom lip. She opened her mouth to him. The kiss grew more heated before Clint stopped, pressing soft kisses to her cheeks.

“Hey, Gin?”

“Hmmmm, yes?” she asked, opening her eyes and refocusing.

“You know I love you, right?”

Clint’s grin was so wide and sappy, Pepper couldn’t help but laugh before pressing another kiss to his mouth. “I’ve always known.” Then she took his hand and walked with him down the hall.

*~*~*~*~*

The meeting was fairly civilized given the topic of discussion. Clint went from loose and exuberant to tense and angry the moment Tony put up the video of Loki. Thor had assured everyone that he had personally seen to it that his brother’s magic would be useless to him. Ginny never left his side, taking his hand the moment they sat down. It was quickly agreed that Thor would use the cube to take Loki back to Asgard. Clint thought he might be able to relax a little the moment his captor vanished. But he still had to face his own guilt.

“Well,” Tony said, breaking the tension. “Fabio is going back home, but if the rest of you want, I’ve got room here. Hope you won’t mind a few repairs that’ll have to be made.”

“Though I will not be here, would it be possible for you to house my lady Jane and her handmaiden, the Lady Darcy?” Thor asked.

“Sure, sure,” Tony said. “Anyone else?”

“I’ve got a place in Brooklyn,” Steve replied. “But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a room here for emergencies.”

“Great, Cap’s on board.” Bruce looked like he was going to say something but Tony stopped him. “Nope, you Big and Brainy, are going nowhere. I waited too long to find you and Jolly Green.” Clint was surprised by the forcefulness of Tony’s voice while it was also gentle and vulnerable.

Natasha spoke next. “I have… things to do, but wouldn’t object if there was a place for me here.” Clint knew she meant dealing with the fallout of Phil’s death. Someone was going to have to tell the cellist. He thought her name was Audrey. Then Tasha added something. “Clint will take an apartment.”

Clint turned and glared at her. “Tasha, I think I can speak for myself.”

She glared back but then her expression went soft and she practically whispered something. “Вы заслуживаете это, моя хок. Она поможет залечить. Не заставляйте меня избили его в вас.”

_You deserve this. She will help you heal._

He heard her words - with his new hearing aids they were as clear as if she’d said them normally. The only other person who’d given any indication of hearing her was Steve, but his confused look meant he hadn’t understood it.

“Guess I’ll need a place,” he sighed. He felt Ginny squeeze his hand. When he glanced at her, she seemed pleased he was going to stay. Maybe Tasha was right. Like Tony, he’d just found her, his soul mate, after so long apart. He’d been a fool to leave her then, and he wasn’t about to repeat the mistake. Or, he’d try not to, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The meeting broke up. They agreed that they would meet tomorrow morning to be there when Thor left with Loki. Pepper squeezed Clint’s hand again before standing to go and talk to Tony. There were arrangements to be made if they were going to have more people living in the Tower. She noted Natasha talking to Clint, wondering what there was between them. She excused herself and went to intercept the agent before she left. Natasha caught her eye and slowed.

“What can I do for you?” Tasha asked.

Pepper thought briefly about what to say. “You knew,” was all that came out.

“I did,” Tasha replied. “I worked with you long enough to know your handwriting.” She put a hand on Pepper’s arm. “We just work together now. It was more once, but I knew it wasn’t to be.” Pepper nodded, her heart letting go of the worry and jealousy. “Be careful, Pepper. He’s hurting. He’ll try to be an idiot, but don’t let him.”

“I won’t,” she assured her former assistant. “I let him go without a fight once.”

Natasha nodded and left with a brief squeeze to Pepper’s arm. The rest of the team finally filtered out, leaving her there with Clint who was standing by the table.

“Ginny,” he said, not looking at her.

Pepper shook her head. “Not now. I have something to show you first.”

She reached for his hand and he stepped forward to take it. She tried not to think about his calluses and how they might feel trailing over her body. After a short elevator ride she pulled him down the hall to her apartment and even further into her bedroom. She silenced any protests with a glare as she pushed him onto her bed.

She walked the few feet to the opposite wall, feeling behind the Monet for the switch. Pressing it, she swung the painting out to reveal her safe. After opening it, she pulled out a large box. She turned and set it next to Clint before sitting down on the other side.

“Can I?” he asked. She nodded.

He pulled the top off slowly but gently. Inside were her own keepsakes. Movie stubs, the corsage he’d given her for Homecoming, picture upon picture of them back in Iowa. And under a clipping of the article announcing her rise to CEO of Stark Enterprises, his mom’s keepsake box. He took it out, holding his breath as he opened it.

“I can’t believe you kept it,” he whispered, his voice rough.

“I told you I would,” she replied softly. “I kept paying for it, even after I left. When I started working for Tony, I took a few days to go and get it, put it in a bank here in the city. When we finished the rooms in the Tower, I brought it here, where I knew it was the safest it could be.”

Clint was crying, the tears flowing slowly down his cheeks. “I don’t deserve you, Gin.”

She quickly put the smaller box inside the bigger one, setting it on the floor. Then she moved closer to him. “Clint, I never stopped loving you. I don’t care what you’ve done.”

“You should!” he half-shouted. “I’m red, Gin, so much blood on my hands.”

He collapsed in her arms. She held him, like she had all those years ago. This time she whispered words of love into his skin, pulling him onto the bed as he sobbed. She rocked him until exhaustion overcame him. Pepper thought about Natasha’s words as she held him. Then she let her own fatigue pull her into sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*

When Clint woke up wrapped around Ginny, he had to pinch himself. This was what all the religious types meant when they talked about dying and going to Heaven. He watched her for a while, itching to trace fingers over her face. Instead he ghosted a kiss over the back of her hand and left her to sleep. When he reached the elevator, the voice of Tony’s AI filtered through the ceiling.

“Agent Barton, if I may?”

Clint’s grateful for the softness of the voice. “Sure, uh… JARVIS?”

“Correct,” the voice said. “Miss Romanov asked that you join her in the kitchen when you were awake. I can take you there or to your apartment. There have been deliveries made on Mr. Stark’s orders - clothing and other essentials.”

Clint groaned. He didn’t like feeling in debt to anyone, and Tony fucking Stark wasn’t just anyone.

“Apartment,” he sighed. “Tell me there’s a coffeemaker.”

“There is, Agent and I have taken the liberty of setting it to brew.”

Clint grinned up in the direction of the security camera. “JARVIS, this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Indeed, Agent Barton.”

“Clint, please,” he replied. “If you’re allowed.”

“It is within my parameters to address guests however they wish, Clint.”

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. There were subtle lights showing him to a door that clicked open when he reached it. Clint tried not to drool as the smell of coffee wafted towards him, but he bypassed the kitchenette for the shower. The hot water never seemed to end so he stayed until his knees felt weak and his fingers resembled prunes. The clothes fit him perfectly. He wondered if Natasha had anything to do with that. The coffee was done by the time he was dressed; he drank it right from the pot. Half of it was gone before he felt like he could face Natasha.

“You’re late.” It was her only statement when he walked into the kitchen.

“Needed to change,” he said, sitting at the counter across from her. “What’s up?”

She just looked at him. He hated when she did that, like she was delving into every nook and cranny of his soul. Finally she looked away, pushing a plate of eggs, bacon and toast at him.

“Don’t fuck it up,” she said flatly. “Eat. We’re sending Loki off in thirty. And this afternoon, you’ve got an appointment.”

“Tasha,” he protested.

“No,” she said firmly. “Same doctor you had before. She’s gone into private practice, but it’s been taken care of. Talk to her, Clint, or deal with me.”

“Fine,” he huffed, digging into the food.

Tasha was by his side the entire time. There was a small vicious part of Clint that couldn’t help but be smug that the crazy god was chained and muzzled. No one said a thing as Bruce lowered the cube into a case. They stood back as Thor and Loki each held one end of the case before Thor twisted it and they vanished. Tasha leaned in to whisper something.

“Go back. Pepper’s waiting.”

There were some quick handshakes all around before Clint could leave. There was a car waiting to take him back to the Tower. JARVIS greeted him but said nothing as the elevator climbed. He was dumped out into the common room. She was waiting on the couch, working on a Stark Pad.

“Gin,” he started. “Or Pepper? I don’t know what to call you.”

She looked up at him, serene and confident. She motioned for him to sit as she put away her work. Clint wondered what he’d done to have the universe make her his soul mate.

“I’ve never been anything but Ginny to you,” she said. “And no one else has ever called me that. I don’t want them to, just you.”

He lifted her hand to his heart. “Good. It feels wrong to call you anything else.” He moved her hand to his cheek. “I’m… I’ve done things. I’m broken, inside and out. But if you still want me…”

She moved her hand from his cheek to trail a finger over his nose. “You were chipped and cracked when you left. Let me help fix you, again.”

He nodded, leaning into her, pulling her hand back into his.

*~*~*~*~*

Pepper was patient. She’d had to be patient since leaving Iowa. But having Clint here, in the Tower, was testing the limits of her patience in ways Tony never had. Logically, she knew he needed time. Therapy and having her around made it easier. But physically, it was far from easy. Lucky for her, Tony never looked into finances or there would be some kind of quip about her most recent purchases.

They’d never gotten to that stage before, so all she had was her imagination. There was also the fact that in the eight months he’d been living here and getting help, he’d only spent a handful of nights in his own apartment. They’d never done anything more than hold each other and occasionally make out. (Well there had been Bruce’s birthday where they all got a little tipsy and there’d been _very_ heavy petting. Clint had spent the next two nights at his place.)

But also tangled up in her trying to not feel guilty over wanting Clint, was her anxiety over him returning to active duty. He’d been somewhat active for two months now, training other agents as well as providing help in training her, Jane and Darcy.

_(The best part of the other two women coming to the Tower – other than female company – was finding out Darcy was ONE of Steve’s soul mates. They’d gotten along fine for half a year until one night Darcy caught him looking at her._

_“You staring for a reason, Cap?” she’d asked._

_“Sorry, you just remind me so much of pin-ups,” he’d replied. “And also I think you’re my soul mate.”_

_Darcy had grinned. “Me too! So, tell me, do you have another mark too?”_

_“I do,” he’d blurted._

_Tony had gone nearly apoplectic at that.)_

Now, though, Fury was close to approving Clint for field work. Pepper had seen how battered he’d been after the Chitauri. Of all the team, he was the most vulnerable. She had thought about approaching Tony about it, but he’d seemed more interested in Clint’s bow and arrows. And Pepper knew that talking to Clint about it could end badly. But she was going to do it. She had to or she’d never be able to live with herself.

So Pepper armed herself in the only way she knew how. Layering lingerie under couture, scent atop scent, and make-up lightly by deftly applied. She breathed in deeply, knowing Clint would have gotten the message from JARVIS. She pulled on her confidence, the fortitude that helped her face down Obadiah Stane, Ivan Vanko,and the Stark Enterprises Board of Directors. She was ready when Clint knocked on her door.

“Come on in,” she called, putting the finishing touches to the meal she’d ordered.

“Gin?” he said, wandering into her dining area. He was wearing slacks and a blue button down that really brought out his eyes. “Whoa, Gin, if I’d know this was fancy…”

“You look wonderful,” she assured him. “Come, sit.”

He stopped her for a moment, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he sat. “What’s the occasion?”

“I can’t have the man I love over for dinner?”

“Sure, but you know, Gin,” he said, putting his hand over hers as she sat. “Any time you wanna go out, we can. I’d love to take you somewhere and give the gossip hounds something to talk about.”

“That could be fun,” she admitted.

They ate, drank and made idle talk about their day. He told her about Darcy showing off her proficiency with a rifle, Jane learning handguns and the newest recruits for SHIELD. But as they lingered over dessert, he made her remember that he was a trained observer.

“So, what was this really about, Gin?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

Pepper took a deep breath, and plunged right in. “You’ve been doing better these days. I know Nick’s been watching you a lot the last week.”

“Yeah, he has,” Clint said, a smile forming. “I think I’ll be getting cleared in a…” Then clarity came over his expression and he sat forward, leaning on the table. “And that’s what this is about. Me going back into the field.”

“Clint,” she said. “You had to know this was going to come up. I’ve spent the last four years terrified something would happen to Tony and he has the suit.”

Pepper braced herself for the macho bravado, for the shouting, for the argument he’d made when he was younger. Instead, Clint took both of her hands, bending to kiss them.

“Ginny,” he said, looking up at her, the look in his eyes soft. “What do you think Tony and I have been working on the last few months?”

“Your… arrows?” she offered weakly.

He laughed softly as he sat up again. “No, well some yes, but he’s been testing something that’ll offer protection without restricting my movements like ordinary body armor might.”

She let out a breath of relief. “Remind me to order a case of his favorite scotch,” she sighed, laying her head on the table. “If you’d died before we’d even…” she mumbled into the cloth before catching herself.

“Before we what, Gin?”

*~*~*~*~*~*

When he’d first seen her in that dress – blue that draped to the floor and hung on every curve – he’d almost been tempted to step back out without saying a word. Ginny was a goddess, so much better than he deserved, but she was his soul mate and she loved him.

For the first several months they’d navigated through getting to know each other again, her work schedule, his many issues; to a place where there were happy. He spent much more time in her place than his. But nothing else was happening. Clint knew that for his part, it was because he was afraid of fucking it all up. That if they tried to be intimate, something would go wrong. Tony was trying to be ‘helpful’ by leaving condoms everywhere, even in the pockets of every single pair of pants Clint owned.

But he also knew that some of it was on Ginny, too. She was afraid of pushing him, afraid of a backslide. There was something more to this dinner and he wasn’t surprised when she said as much. Clint silently thanked JARVIS for keeping quiet about the armor. He had been planning on surprising Gin with it next week, after its final test. Now, seeing the relief on her face made Clint glad he’d gone to Tony about it. Then Ginny said something into the tablecloth that he picked up without a problem (thank you, Tony, again).

“Before we what, Gin?” he asked, blood thrumming through his veins. Ginny got red, then stood.

“I should clear this up,” she said, reaching for a plate.

He pulled her away, into his lap. She let out a noise of surprise, but Clint wasn’t going to let her go. He let his fingers trail along the flash of thigh the slit in the dress showed him. “Ginny,” he said, watching her shiver under his touch. “Do you want me?” He leaned in, smelling the skin above her cleavage.

“God, Clint, yes,” she breathed. “Please…”

He took her mouth roughly. She melted into it, trying to turn and straddle him. He gathered the fabric of her dress from the floor, pulling it up so she could do just that. Ginny worked the buttons of his shirt open, running her hands over his chest, scratching lightly. He tugged at the zipper of the dress, dragging it down just enough so he could tug the fabric off of her breasts.

“Fuck, Gin, so beautiful,” he rasped. His fingers trailed over her thighs, making her moan.

“Clint, please,” she panted.

Her deft hands had his pants undone and were into his briefs. He wrapped an arm around her, lifted up with his hips enough to push everything down with his other hand. When he was back down in the chair, his hands were back on her skin, under the dress and dipping under what he was sure was a very expensive thong. “Can I afford to replace these?” he asked, nibbling at the top of her breasts.

“Yes,” she replied, palming his dick. “Tell me you have protection.”

Clint nodded, giving a sharp tug as he ripped the scrap of fabric from her body. Then he leaned over, pulling the ever-present condom from the pocket of his pants. After a few moments of fumbling, Gin rolled it onto him. Then with some maneuvering she was sinking down, letting him into her body.

“Christ, Gin,” he groaned, holding onto her as they sat there for a moment. Then Ginny rolled her hips and they were off.

Clint pushed up into her, mouthing at her breasts, hold onto her hard enough to leave bruises. Gin didn’t seem to care.

“God, Clint, yes, more, harder,” she cried. He lifted one of his hands up into her hair, freeing it from its clip so it tumbled down and framed her face. She scratched at his shoulders and they laughed as he struggled to get his shirt off. Once he was free of it, Ginny marked him up as she rode him. He wanted to reach for her clit, but was afraid of toppling over. Instead he angled his hips just so and Ginny shattered around him. After a few sloppy thrusts, he followed, groaning her name into her neck.

Breathlessly, Ginny moved off so he could take care of the condom, but stayed in his lap. They kissed lazily, waiting to come down from the high.

“Why did we wait?” Ginny giggled.

Clint shrugged, toeing off shoes and socks before using his feet to push off pants and briefs. “We’re idiots?” he replied. He undid the rest of the dress’s zipper, pulling it and her bra off slowly.

“Maybe,” she agreed, drawing circles on his chest.

“Any more condoms here?”

Ginny grinned. “It’s Tony’s tower, what do you think?”

“I think,” he said, standing up, one arm under ass, the other around her waist. She shrieked, wrapping her legs around him. “That we’re doing that again.” He carried her back to the bedroom, her laugh echoing through the room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tony’s armor worked like a charm, but that didn’t mean that Pepper didn’t have her heart in her throat every single time they went out. When the call to assemble would come, Jane and Darcy would make their way to her room to watch the news footage on her big screen and indulge in her expensive chocolates and tequila. Every time they came back, there would be _very_ enthusiastic sex. Pepper sometimes wondered if Natasha had someone but then Clint would nibble on her neck and she stopped thinking.

This time it was mutant shellfish or something that came from the sea. All Pepper knew was there was a lot of debris being tossed around. Hulk was smashing and bashing most of them, but other members of the team were getting their hits in. Pepper did her best not to wince when a piece of shell missed Clint by a hair. Soon all the mutant things were dead or dying and Pepper breathed easy. Jane went back to the lab for a while, Darcy followed to supervise. Pepper went down to the common room, where the team would meet after decontamination and debrief. She was working on reading reports when Tony made a quick appearance about an hour later.

“Bruce is still all ragey. Gotta give Hulk some more things to smash.”

Pepper smiled. The two of them were good for each other. “I’ll have JARVIS keep an eye out if it takes too long and I’ll order in food.”

“Italian; he’ll need the carbs,” Tony said, leaving the room. A second later he poked his head back in. “Have I told you you’re the best, Potts?”

“I’ll be sure to give myself a raise,” she replied, turning back to her reports.

Half an hour after that, Steve came in. “Is Darcy…?”

“In the lab with Jane,” Pepper replied.

Steve grinned. “Well, Thor went straight there after debrief, so…”

“Go, go,” Pepper shooed.

“Thanks,” Steve said. “Clint should be done soon.”

Pepper nodded. Almost two and a half hours after the battle, Clint half-hobbled out of the elevator. Pepper stood, but he waved her off.

“You’re later than usual,” she commented, still standing.

“I had to make a stop on the way in,” he said, shuffling to stand in front of her.

Pepper made noised that weren’t words before taking a calming breath. “A stop? _A stop?_ Clint Barton, I should…”

She tapered off when he pulled something from the pocket of his sweats. The band was gold, intricately and delicately woven to encase a stone Pepper knew. She’d looked at it often enough after Clint had left. It was from Edith’s promise ring, the one her soul mate had given her. Clint was rubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he held it close to his chest.

“I really hope you weren’t expecting me to get on one knee, ‘cause I’m a little wounded right now…”

“Shut up and ask me,” she said, tears already slipping down her cheeks.

“I think Virginia Barton has a nice sound to it, so I was really hoping you’d marry me, Ginny.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He hobbled closer, taking her hand and pushing the ring onto her finger. Pepper wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely. He groaned and wobbled a little.

“Gin, hon,” he said.

She pulled him gently back to the couch. “You put that leg up now, Clint. You will be able to dance with me at our wedding.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he replied, grinning.

She spent the rest of the afternoon kissing him senseless.

(Tony gave her away, everyone cried and Darcy caught the bouquet. The look on Steve’s face became one of her favorite pictures.)

 


End file.
